Defining Home, a subtle question about belonging ...

The question of belonging to a place or community has always perplexed me. What do we call 'Home': the place where we are born, where we work, or some point in the transit that soothes our senses and imagination and just stays on. About a month back, I had my first revelation in this idea during a casual discussion with a friend.

While the question of belonging is simple for some of us, maybe like my parents whose life revolves around three states of Northern India, it can puzzle the global citizens like folks of my generation. Time and again, we show our solidarity towards places where we were born or raised. These discussions would also give rise to certain feelings of regionalism. An example I experienced is that people like to share apartments only with others from their native cities/states, especially when they are in a foreign land. This makes sense to a certain extent that we want to preserve a comfort zone in this foreign land, but it conflicts with the ideas of an organic growth towards understanding new cultures. I am not imposing an opinion, but the greatest risk to the quality of human life is, not taking a risk altogether.

Among my countrymen, like religion, the definition of home is adopted by birth, not by choice or thought. I was lucky to live in different parts of the world in the past 15 or so years. Born and brought up in a small town of Haryana, called Yamuna Nagar, I moved to Chandigarh, Muthal(Sonipat), Pune, Kochi, Chicago and now the San Francisco Bay Area. Never stayed at a place for more than 4 years, but made friends and memories at all these places. While most of the memories were good, some are painful. Anyhow, I kept moving and enjoying the beauty and diversity on this planet. And no doubt, I wish to explore much more.

Every place has its specialties etched in my mind, like Chandigarh had its parks and well managed infrastructure but hardly any friendly faces(for me), Murthal was the anvil that forged some maturity into me, Kochi was the time of drunken revelry, free thinking of an unexperienced mind and a couple of impactful events, Chicago was a place of trials and triumphs. Its so hard to prefer one over the other. Neither do I want to settle down in any one place, when some thing inside me makes me realize that I have one life and I shall rather be a global citizen than to contain my mind in the idea of regionalism.

An interesting thought is, that 'Home is where the heart is'. Point in case, while places of high rises and fabulous infrastructures do excite, they cannot make some one happy over a longer period of time. It will be more like an infatuation that will wither off. Its the people or the moments that I recall in these places, rather than the grandiose of some of these cities.

This is an intermittent question that bothers my inquisitive mind and a restless soul. Maybe it will gain significance or it will just look like a thought on my blog, when I will revisit it in the future.

Happy goes to school ...

This is an excerpt from the life of Happy. Happy is a happy four year old tot. This is the age when a formally formatted education starts. It is the age when fun and adventure moves from the confines of a home, to the playgrounds and class rooms of a school.

Happy attends a school at some long distance from his home. This distance is covered in about twenty minutes involving a walk down the municipal park to the pick up spot where Munshi Ram, a rickshaw driver picks him up for the ride to school. Happy is woken up at 0630 hours so as to be ready for his walk by 0830 hours. As any usual kid, he has to be forced into the shower, cleaned, dried, dressed up and then fed in these two hours. This is a daily arduous task cut out for his Mother. Happy gets a 'bit' oily and well set in hairdo with side partition, like Toby Maguire of spider man fame. He has absolutely no doubt that it is a very uncool hairdo for this century. But Happy doesn't have so many options, given 1. the number of hair on his head and, 2. some how his Mother finds it  better than the rather bizarre hair styles prevalent among his friends.

Then comes the walk down the municipal park. Inquisitive Happy finds the park very exciting. He has been coming here since he was an infant, and no bird, squirrel, worm, puddle of water ever misses from his attention. Happy gets tempted to step into the puddles, but he has to be very careful so that Mother doesn't notice. Every minute detail of this path is known to him and his excited mind keeps on probing deeper. He sees the birds sitting on the trees, knows a family of cats that live in a corner and follow him some times. Some times there are tennis balls that were lost in the bushes from previous evening's cricket matches. Those are prized catches. They are to be shown off at the school among friends.

Again, as any usual kid, he has an affinity to worms. The other day when Mother came across an Aunty from the neighborhood  Happy took on the opportunity to follow an earthworm. He got his hands and knees dirty and had to be pulled away from the terrified being, like a sniffing dog unwilling to let go. He got slapped on his back for making himself dirty and couple of tears rolled down his eyes. He felt ashamed and humiliated in front of an Aunty. The moment was terrible but soon he let it go when he was allowed to chase away a squirrel.

Munshi Ram's rickshaw is a bit over crowded but he packs the kids in the small space very efficiently. There are hooks on the outer walls to hang school bags. This makes the packed vehicle look over flowing. The yellow colored fragile vehicle is powered by an equally fragile Munshi Ram, who should be in his fifties. About five minutes before the school comes an uphill section of the road. This is beyond Munshi Ram's strength and he has to put some kids out of the rickshaw and make them push. Kids make fun of the old man. These are young fellows who barely know their own age, so the elderly driver does not bother. Very diligently, he stops the rickshaw after the uphill, and packs the kids back in. Some times, a fight breaks up among the kids and some times they laugh at their own stories like knowledgeable adults. The rickshaw is late to the school almost every day, and Munshi ram makes excuses to the Principal ma'am.

Then starts the school which is equally adventurous.

Days and months and years will pass and these kids will grow to be adults. They will be free to wake up at their own schedules, try their own hair styles. Wisdom and longing will make them respect the poor rickshaw driver's fragility  Some will even miss him. Inquisitiveness of the smallest things in nature will be lost. Busy schedules will take away the joys that are filled in the air by Mother Nature. There's an amazing lot to be learnt from the kids and their lives.

Baaz ki Parwaaz

Sun has just set on this hot summer day and the scarlet of  distant horizon is quickly fading away. Its been long since Parvez has been in flight. The weary eagle looks around for shelter and some rest. There is no greenery around, only shrubs remain on the banks of a parched pond. Parvez pumps up the last ounces of energy into his wings and after a couple of powerful flaps, the bird swoops down on a lone dried up tree. The tree seems like a skeleton of its glorious past when water from the pond nourished its roots and green leaves covered its branches. Although, now its fortunes have dried with the pond.

This will be the lonesome inn for Parvez, our wandering golden eagle. Parvez does not know the new landscape. He has wandered away from his nest and is lost, but being lost is his nature and it does not scare him. His eyes are sad and pensive over the disillusionment in his clan. Sky is now covered in the dark of night with bright stars gleaming all over. Wind is warmer and much more pleasant, as if Mother Nature has decided to make his sleep a bit comfortable. Parvez hasn't found his answers nor his peace, but his eyes close and the mortal self goes to rest.

Warm wind sings a lullaby, although his mind is restless even in sleep. It is playing tricks on Parvez, taking him places and reliving those short memories, bitter, sweet and sometimes confusing. Parvez is young, thoughtful and full of questions, not just the usual inquisitiveness of a growing mind but even the disturbing truths of life attract him. He was known in his clan to be the sensitive and ambitious one. The one who doesn't like to give up on a fallen friend. Two golden eagles fly overhead. They notice him, but soon disappear. They are his brothers. For a moment, his mind fills with hope of re conciliation and  joy of receiving the brothers. But his innocuous ambitions and sensitivities are too fool hardy for them. Their disappearance just re iterates to him that he is alone in the moment.

One of Parvez's curious obsessesions involve the Sun. For him, Sun is a distant bird that rises in east and nests across the western horizon. Its disciplined journey from east to west has elevated it to Godhood among the earthly creatures. Its fiery wings inspire awe in Parvez's heart. They can provide warmth or burn him in hell's fires at will. For him, the Sun is a symbol of wisdom, energy and longevity. He wants to meet the Sun to learn secrets of life and Mother Nature. It may very well be the answer to his questions, at least the quest gives him some peace.

Parvez fantasizes flight over beautiful lands with a mysterious mate. They fly over vast stretches of rivers, oceans, mountains and plains, overseeing the beauty of Earth and hunting at will. This sight fills his heart with comfort. At the same time, he ponders over the purpose to his life, his mad desire to meet the Sun God and stumbles on an inevitable puzzle. What's greater, to fulfill the meaning of his life or the desire of companionship. He realizes that the ambitions and the quests will be far more comfortable and endearing when he finds a companion, who shares his vision.

Parvez's heart goes out to his friends who were left behind and could not fly so far away with him. They were just as bright and ambitious as him and together they had seen dreams to capture the whole world in their eyes. He realizes life is cruel at times and he ought to value each moment and each ounce of energy in him.

Parvez opens his eyes at the crack of dawn. The lullaby of warm wind has somewhat relaxed his hurt and pain. His mind is filled with his Mother's wisdom, as she once taught him not to emulate the world when it is unfair with him, but to carry on his quests with faith in his destiny and an honest heart. Parvez looks around and renews his flight, like a resurrected phoenix.

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Coutesy: This story is my humble literary manifestation of the mythical bird, Phoenix. Inspiration to write this piece came about 6 months back upon hearing the beautiful composition "Ujale Baaz" by Indian band Agnee. Please watch the song (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6UVUHQ8NE90), as it is much better than what you just read.

Untitled Confusion

There is something that needs to be said, something that needs to be heard or lets say something that needs to be discussed. Don't know where to start. I don't have metaphors to veil my real question and story. Writing has helped me relax by putting my thoughts on paper(electronic) and sharing it with the world. Its funny, people may read and appreciate, but hardly anyone gets to the source of inspiration. Some just don't feel like comprehending the metaphors and buy the story at its face value, others try but give up soon on cracking a shy writer's secret world.
Probably just like Forrest Gump.